


open

by bygoneboy



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't Examine This Too Closely, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bygoneboy/pseuds/bygoneboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hux’s pale, bright eyes meet Kylo’s dark ones for a moment. A heartbeat, before he blinks, and tears his gaze away, focusing instead on the nothingness a foot over Kylo’s head. You’re mine, he tells the empty air.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Yes, says Kylo. That’s all I want, Hux.</i></p><p>  <i>That’s all I want.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	open

When he is seven, Ben hears it for the first time:

 

The story of Anakin Skywalker, and how he’d broken the heart of the woman he loved.

 

A little blue-bird had veered and crashed into the smooth-paned window of their house and for all of Ben’s efforts, it had died, slowly, and in pain. He had thought it was just sleeping, until its body began to go cold. When Luke visits, he explains that sometimes life needs to pass on, into a different realm. A higher plane, of the Force.

 

 _What if I could have saved it,_ Ben says, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

 

_What, the bird?_

_If I’d tried harder,_ says Ben.

 

_Or been stronger?_

_Yes._

 

 _Oh, Ben,_ Luke says, forehead creasing, and then he sighs, and says, _Let me tell you a story._

 

ii.

 

 

(He was too young, Leia would say, years later, when the news came that Snoke had taken her son. He was too young, you shouldn’t have told him.)

 

(Maybe he should never have been told at all.)

 

(Maybe he just didn’t believe you, Luke.)

 

(Maybe there’s a heart that he still thinks he can save.)

 

 

iii.

 

 

Brendol Hux II borders on inhuman.

 

He takes it in stride. It’s taken him years, Ren knows, to carefully craft himself into someone untouchable, unaffected, unshaken. It is what shapes everything about him. He is heartless.

 

But he can try very hard at pretending otherwise.

 

Before everything falls apart, this is what Ren remembers: his calculated moans, carefully-placed sweet-nothinged whispers. Touches that are clinically gentle; too-sharp smiles in the cold, early-cycle _Finalizer_ mornings.

 

The aloof hard-edged lines of his face, hidden in the crook of Ren’s arm, breath huffing steadily as Ren rubs two callused, slow fingers in and out of him and asks _Do you like that, is it good, please tell me._

Hux pushes his hips down, fucking himself on Ren’s fingers, spreading his legs wider. _Why don’t you just read my mind,_ he says. His voice is tinged with thickness.

 

_I want to hear it from you._

_Mm, of course. I forget, you need to be told._

 

He shifts back, his arms tucked neatly behind his head. He tells him:

_Add another finger._

_Slower._

_There, right there, yes._

 

And entirely impassive— _All right, that’s it. You can fuck me properly, now._

 

He watches Kylo slick himself, push into him, obey. _This is all you’re good for,_ he says, breath stuttering but only slightly; his fingers, twining into the sheets, are the only sign that he is beginning to come apart. _Not fighting and killing but this. Just this. Only this._

_Yes,_ Kylo says, thrusting slow, his arms already trembling, _yes, I know._

He thrusts again, harder; Hux makes a low noise, a grunt. _I should keep you here, forever. Never let you do anything else._

_Yes,_ Kylo breathes, a hot thrill running up his spine. _Hux, please, yes._

Hux tips back, puts his legs around Kylo’s waist, digs his heels into his sides. _Are you sure?_ he asks. _I’ll never let you leave, Ren, never. I’ll never let anyone else so much as look at you again, you’ll be mine—_

 

 _Please,_ Kylo begs against his lips, at Hux’s mercy even while he fucks him deep and raw, _please._

Hux’s pale, bright eyes meet Kylo’s dark ones for a moment. A heartbeat, before he blinks, and tears his gaze away, focusing instead on the nothingness a foot over Kylo’s head. _You’re mine,_ he tells the empty air.

_Yes,_ says Kylo. _T_ _hat’s all I want, Hux._

_That’s all I want._

 

 

iv.

 

 

This is how it happens.

 

Every time—

 

Kylo falls apart, fucking Hux open.

 

And every time—

 

Hux comes with barely a sound.

 

There are bigger things than the two of them. Bigger plans. Starkiller is nearly complete. This should not matter. Hux fakes false intimacy in the late-early hours of the night cycles and dawn, and Ren tells himself it should be enough.

 

It’s not.

 

And on Starkiller’s bridge Han Solo says, _Ben._

Says, _come home._

He takes the Knight’s red-bladed lightsaber in his palm, and lets it plunge over the side. Kicks away the mask, at their feet. And Kylo feels something in him drop along with the things that define him, something buried surfaced, ripped away, tossed aside.

 

It feels like death, and rebirth.

 

It feels like Hux’s empty eyes, staring at the nothingness a foot above his head.

 

Chewbacca, the scavenger girl, the traitor, his father— the five of them leave together, and in the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_ Ben closes his eyes and listens to the roar of the Starkiller, so cold and indestructible, crumbling from the inside-out.

 

 

v.

 

 

_TRANSMISSION 1/5 ; GENERAL HUX TO LEIA ORGANA_

_General,_

_Congratulations. I am sure that your Resistance has spent the past week in a celebratory haze; it is my unfortunate duty to remind you that you have made a dangerous enemy. If you think you are safe you are dreaming._

_I am aware that you have captured an agent of the First Order. It will come as an unwelcome surprise for you to learn that Kylo Ren is of no importance to us. We will hardly be crippled by his absence._

_Retribution is impending._

_—Brendol Hux II, General of the First Order_

 

 

_…_

_TRANSMISSION 2/5 ; GENERAL HUX TO LEIA ORGANA_

_General,_

_I was disappointed not to receive a response from you. Perhaps you thought my threats unwarranted._

_In my last message, I briefly mentioned Kylo Ren’s unimportance— a sentiment I uphold. However, despite my feelings concerning the situation, the Order’s Supreme Leader finds his return necessary. You are hereby commanded to restore him to me in good health, or perish._

_We will not negotiate._

_—General Hux_

_…_

_TRANSMISSION 3/5 ; GENERAL HUX TO LEIA ORGANA_

_Organa,_

_I am willing to pay ransom for Kylo Ren, returned to me alive and well. Name your price. I will more than match it. I warn you not to deny me this._

_I will not ask you again._

_—Hux_

_…_

_TRANSMISSION 4/5 ; GENERAL HUX TO LEIA ORGANA_

_~~I humbly request that you allow me to~~ _

__

_~~In the name of war and peace I would fully appreciate a holo-audience with~~ _

__

_~~Please let me speak to your son.~~ _

__

_~~Organa. I understand how ridiculous this will sound—~~ _

__

_Give him back to me._

_…_

 

 

_TRANSMISSION 5/5 ; GENERAL HUX TO LEIA ORGANA_

 

_GIVE HIM BACK TO ME. GIVE HIM BACK TO ME. GIVE HIM BACK TO ME. GIVE HIM BACK TO ME. GIVE HIM BACK TO ME. GIVE HIM BACK T—_

 

 

vi.

 

 

Ben Solo is missing something.

 

A year, since the defeat of the First Order. A year, since he and Rey had stood side-by-side and brought down the Supreme Leader, slicing through him again and again until his body crumpled and withered and turned to dust before their very eyes. A year since he was supposed to be free from the man he thought he had become.

 

A year since he was supposed to destroy _Kylo,_ and reclaim _Ben._

 

The dawn of his redemption had felt like death, and rebirth. Most days still feel like that, but not for the same reason. Everyone feels it, sees it in him. Rey, Leia, Luke. Even Han, without any Force sensitivity whatsoever. There’s something off-kilter; he knows it, they know it, he’s not quite—

 

“Ben,” Luke says, chiding, a frown twitching from behind his beard. His eyes are closed, his hands open and still in his lap. “Meditation should serve to cleanse your thoughts, not muddy them.”

 

Ben twists his mouth, then lies back, stares up at the domed ceiling, his wild-dark hair fanning out over the meditation reed-mat. “I can feel someone calling my name,” he says, at last. “But I can never seem to hear their voice.”

 

“Tread carefully,” Luke tells him, opening his eyes. “We all have both Dark and Light in us; you know that it is our choice, which faction we align ourselves with. The Darkness lingering in you may take years, to eradicate. Some will always feel that pull, for as long as they live.”

 

Ben feels sick at the prospect. “How could I even begin to find the lines between the two, to separate—”

 

“You must _learn_ ,” Luke replies, his face a somber collection of faded scars and worn lines. “This is what has always been the origin of every one of your setbacks, Ben, this failure to separate, to detach. To free your emotion from your reason, your thoughts from your process, your past from your future.”

 

Ben rubs at his eyes until he sees stars. “Why?” he asks, almost cringing at the childish way the question slips from between his lips.

 

“There is something you have not let go of.”

 

“What?”

 

“The details,” says Luke, firmly, “are not important, it will fade, if you’ll only _listen_ to me. Learn to concentrate on your meditation, not your frustration.”

 

Ben sets his jaw and sits up, straightening his shoulders the best he can, despite the emptiness he feels. “Again?”

 

“Again,” Luke agrees, and waves an idle hand, coaxing the Force to his fingertips; the meditation gong at the center of the room rises, slowly, and rings.

 

 

vii.

 

 

In the end, the vision comes not during meditation, but during his dreams, and the weight of it hits him like twice the force of gravity, bending him to breaking.

 

He can make out a ship’s walls, gleaming silver, smooth tile beneath his feet, and he thinks, _The Finalizer._ But the walls are dirty and unwashed; the tile underfoot is cheap and stained. And the bow of the ship is as cramped and narrow as the _Falcon’s_ cockpit.

 

A smuggler’s crude transport. A bootlegger operation, seedy and penniless. The home of someone who wants, desperately, not to be found.

 

 _What the fuck,_ says someone, behind him, stiff voiced, irritated. _What the fuck are you doing on my ship._

 

Ben turns.

 

And is met with copper-orange hair, and—

 

And eyes that Kylo Ren had revered.

 

Eyes that Ben Solo has tried to forget.

 

Cold. Empty. Pale, but no less bright, and Ben realizes—

 

Ben says—

 

_Hux?_

He tries to move— to step forward or away, he isn’t sure— but finds himself frozen, rooted in place by the disbelief in the former General’s face. Hux’s mouth opens, soundlessly, closes. When Ben hears his voice at last the irritation has been replaced by something panicked, breathy, frantic, and those pale eyes are wide.

 

 _Hells,_ says Hux. _Oh, gods, I’m dreaming._

 

 _No,_ Ben says, his head spinning as he fills into Hux’s world. _I mean, I think I am, but you—_

_I’m insane. I’ve gone mad._ Hux is fumbling for the blaster on his hip as though he hasn’t heard, perhaps he hasn’t, _Stars. Hells. Fuck,_ says Hux, and swings the blaster up and fires straight at him, once, twice, a third time, stumbling away, face bloodless and frightened as the blaster bolts pass through Ben’s body without a sound, without leaving a single mark, and strike the ship’s back wall.

 

 _Hux,_ says Ben, still stunned. _Hux._

Hux’s words are vicious and brusque even as his lower lip trembles, bloodlessly. _Right,_ he says. _I didn’t really think you could kill hallucinations, but it was worth a bloody try, wasn’t it—_

 

Ben’s body pushes forward on its own, lifting the blaster out of Hux’s hand as Hux shakes and stares, and Ben raises his arm, creasing his brow in concentration, the tips of his fingers manifesting entirely, solidifying and meeting solid skin, grazing Hux’s cheek.

 

 _It’s me,_ he says, _I’m here._

_You’re not,_ says Hux. And then he’s laughing, even as the look in his eyes remains haunted, he reaches for Ben and he cries out, softly, when his hands find the solid purchase of Ben’s shoulders.

 

Ben has no memory of Hux ever looking so alive.

 

 _What is this,_ Hux says, shaking him, still laughing half-crazed, _what are you wearing, you look like a fucking Jedi. I didn’t think I was dreaming. You never look like this in my dreams._

_That’s because it’s not a dream,_ says Ben, certain now. Hux’s hands are running down his front and back up again, feeling the planes of his chest and the dip of his breastbone and the curve of his arms like he’s trying to memorize the map of Ben’s body through touch. _Hux. It’s all right, it’s not a dream—_

 

_Then what are you waiting for, fucking kiss me already—_

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

It doesn’t feel quite concrete. Ben can feel himself fading and materializing in unsteady cycles, pulled by the persistence of an invisible hand that is fighting to coax him back to his own reality. But Hux’s hands fist in his hair and he moans, loud, muffled against Ben’s lips when Ben licks his way into his mouth, and it is—

 

It is enough.

 

 

viii.

 

 

Years ago, above the coal-black dust of Mustafar’s molten surface, Anakin Skywalker—

 

(Or had it been Vader?)

 

— had held the life of the woman he loved at the tips of his fingers, and broken her heart.

 

That’s the difference between them, Ben—

 

(Or is he Kylo?)

 

— thinks, holding Hux’s face in his hands, crushing desperate promises against his lips even as he feels the vision begin to fade.

 

Hux’s heart had been shattered and misshapen to begin with.

 

 

ix. 

 

“Ben,” says Luke, in the Temple hall, begging him to stay. “Ben, remember your training. Remember what I’ve told you, about visions, dreams, the future is always in motion—”

 

“I have to go,” Ben says, “I need him.”

 

There is no Supreme Being to take its roots inside of his head, this time, no one to feed his anger until it swells to something greater than his physical frame; there is only the ache in his chest, the pity in Luke’s eyes, the echo of Hux’s voice in his head. “You don’t know him,” Luke says. “Kylo Ren may have, but you, Ben, you never did. He’ll drag you back down and deeper.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben says, thinking of the way Hux had shaken, startled, cried. “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“Please,” Luke says, despair and distress mix thick in his feedback. “Don’t let us lose you again.”

 

He isn’t listening. His feet are already carrying him halfway down the Temple hall, his mind already mapping a way off-planet.

 

“Ben!” shouts Luke, after him. “I won’t be able to hide this from Leia, from your father, from Rey—”

 

“I wouldn’t ask you to if you could.”

 

“And if they demand his blood, in return?”

 

“They won’t have it. But I would understand.”

 

“Listen to me! Leave, and you will have failed the Code, you will have failed me—”

 

“Then I’ve failed you.”

 

_“Wait—”_

 

Ben turns. Pauses, past the chasm of silence between them.

 

“Just tell me,” Luke says, his voice anguished, and full of pain. “What is it like, to be in love with someone like that?”

 

“Like death,” Ben answers. “And rebirth, and _—_ ”

 

 

x.

 

 

He aligns his shuttle beside Hux’s smuggler craft, two days later. When the decompresser hisses open Hux is there, standing in the entrance where their two ships meet, his hands trembling at his sides.

 

Ben moves slowly. Seeing the things that he hadn’t seen in the vision. The patches of stubble, on his cheeks. The thin-threaded shirt on his back, the way it clings to him. He’s thinner. His hair is longer. "I came as fast as I could," Ben says, staring at him, and his voice sounds far away, to his own ears.

 

Hux answers, "I wasn't sure you would."

 

When they kiss it’s unsure, it’s tentative; Ben sucks Hux’s lower lip into his mouth and then it’s needy, it’s frantic. Ben presses him back against the grimy docking bay wall, and Hux hitches his legs around Ben’s waist, and they’re both shuddering, they’re whimpering, they’re breathing.

 

And it’s messy. Ben says _smuggling, really?_ and Hux laughs, Hux says _Kylo_ and Ben says _I’m not,_ but is he? And Ben reaches down past Hux’s belt to take his cock in his hand but Hux says _no,_ in a voice that Ben doesn’t recognize, says _wait,_ says _just hold me._

 

And his eyes are open, and fixed on Ben’s.

 

They’re fixed on Ben’s.

 

 _I could have been Emperor,_ says Hux, later, into the crook of Ben’s arm, both of them curled up in Hux’s too-small cot. _We could have had that, we could have had the galaxy._

_I didn’t want it,_ says Ben. _I wanted you._

He shifts, kisses Hux’s temple. Hux noses up against his neck, sighs against his skin.

_Are you here to save me?_ he asks.

 

 _I don’t know,_ says Ben. _Do you need to be saved?_

 

Hux reaches out, and tangles his fingers in Ben’s hair.

 

A confession:

_I used to want the galaxy_.

 

_And now?_

 

 _Now,_ says Hux. _I just want you._

_That’s all, Ren._

_That’s all I want._

 

 


End file.
